


Something New For Every Night

by JennaTalbot



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I'm emo ok don't look at me, M/M, you've been warned ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-04 04:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaTalbot/pseuds/JennaTalbot
Summary: Ronan groaned. It wasn’t often that he couldn’t sleep anymore, he had made a past time out of sleeping. Mostly because the side effect was dreaming. Ronan was well aware that there was no dreaming without first sleeping, so he tried to stay on good terms with it.Tonight was different though.Otherwise known as, all the times Ronan ended up in Gansey's bed





	1. Chapter 1

Ronan groaned. It wasn’t often that he couldn’t sleep anymore, he had made a past time out of sleeping. Mostly because the side effect was dreaming. Ronan was well aware that there was no dreaming without first sleeping, so he tried to stay on good terms with it. 

Tonight was different though. 

He tossed and turned, rolling over to look at his clock. A bright red ‘3:00 am’ flashed at him, and he threw his sheet off, irritated. 

Kicking the towel away from the bottom of his door, Ronan padded towards their kitchen-bathroom-laundry room for a 3:00 am snack. It probably wouldn’t help him sleep, but Ronan had all but given up on that for the night anyways. He could just make up for it during the day, it wasn’t like he had been planning to attend classes at Aglionby anyways. 

Monmouth was darker than usual. Normally, the windows in what Gansey had claimed as his room let in enough moonlight to illuminate the space, but it must have been overcast, because Ronan couldn’t see anything.

Which is why he nearly ran into the Gansey in question in the middle of the kitchen-bathroom-laundry room. 

“Shit, Gansey, you just gave me a heart attack! What the fuck are you doing up anyways?”

The other boy didn’t respond, and Ronan wasn’t even sure if he moved. 

“Gansey…?” Ronan flicked on the light. 

Gansey was standing frozen in the middle of the room, his arm slightly outstretched away from his body, as if he had been reaching for something and then stopped abruptly. “Ronan,” he whispered, and Ronan could hear the trembling in his voice. 

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the light, Ronan could see why. His heart dropped. 

Sitting on Gansey’s arm was a bee, a garish yellow and black underneath the fluorescent lighting. It looked innocent enough, but Ronan knew that tiny little body could kill Gansey before Ronan would have a chance to get help.  

“Fuck,” Ronan breathed out. “Gansey, are you ok? It hasn’t-” He broke off, unable to finish that sentence. 

There was a moment of silence before he responded in a strained voice, “Just. Get it off. Please,” he added as an afterthought, even polite, even when facing down death. 

Ronan’s mind was racing. His first instinct was just to smash the thing and kill it, but that led to a very high risk of Gansey getting stung, which meant that option was out of the question. Brushing it off still had a fairly high risk of pissing the thing off, and Ronan didn’t want to take the chance of it flying and getting lost somewhere in the vast space of Monmouth before he could get to it.  

“Ok Gansey, I’m going to leave, just for a second. I’ll be right back and we’ll get rid of that thing. Just… hang in there, and don’t move.” Ronan didn’t really want to take his eyes off of Gansey or the bee, but he couldn’t freeze up too and leave it there. 

He backed slowly out of the kitchen-bathroom-laundry room door and out into the main room, where he finally turned and made his way over to Gansey’s desk. He grabbed the first piece of paper he saw, not caring what it was, and went back to the kitchen. It had only been a few seconds, but his pulse was pounding, and even that small action felt like it had taken days.

Gansey was exactly where Ronan had left him, still frozen in the middle of the room. He let out a soft noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper as the bee started moving up his arm, and he squeezed his eyes shut.  

Ronan grabbed one of the clear glasses out of the sink, dumping its contents down the drain. He slowly approached Gansey, not wanting to startle him or the bee. 

“I’m going to hold this paper up to your arm, and the bee is going to walk onto it. Once it’s on here, I’ll cover it with this glass and then take it outside. It’ll be fine.” Ronan knew he wasn’t the most reassuring person on the planet, far from it. But he made a point of telling the truth, so he hoped that Gansey would believe him. Because there was no option for his statement to be anything other than the truth. 

Slowly, Ronan put the paper up to Gansey’s arm. He was startled to see it trembling slightly, and even more startled to realize that it was because his hand was shaking. He concentrated, and the paper steadied. 

He pushed the paper over Gansey’s arm, closer towards the bee. For a moment, it sat still, unmoving. And then it began to crawl up Gansey’s arm and away from the paper. Ronan’s breath caught in his throat, but then the bee paused and turned. It crawled onto the paper, painstakingly slow, and Ronan felt like screaming. 

Once the bee was fully situated on the paper and not Gansey’s arm, Ronan clamped the glass down over it while lifting the paper up, so there was no chance a stinger could go through the paper and still end up in Gansey. As Ronan lifted the paper up, Gansey flew to the other side of the room, faster than Ronan would have imagined possible. 

At the same time, the bee starting buzzing furiously around the inside of the glass, so Ronan folded the paper up around the bottom of the glass so there was no chance of it escaping. 

“I’m going to take this fucker outside and get rid of it and then I’ll be back,” he promised, already heading towards the front door. 

His earlier assessment had been correct, it was an overcast night. The cold night air chilled his skin, and Ronan could feel the light sheen of sweat that had broken out, and anger spiked in him.

A few feet away from the front door, over to the side where no one ever bothered to walk, Ronan shook his bee-holding contraption violently, hoping to disorient his captive. He then removed the paper and dumped the bee onto the ground, smashing it with a loose piece of concrete he had picked up from the stoop. 

Once he was sure the bee was finally dead— being in two pieces was probably a good indication of deadness— Ronan took a deep, shuddering breath, and headed back inside. 

He expected to see Gansey back in bed, or hovering over his model of Henrietta, but even after Ronan’s eyes readjusted to the gloom, the other boy was nowhere to be seen.

“Gansey?” 

There was no response. Then Ronan noticed that the kitchen-bathroom-laundry room light was still on. 

“Gansey,” he repeated from the doorway. 

Gansey was crouched on the floor against the wall where Ronan had left him, eyes wide and staring off at nothing, or nothing that Ronan could see.

“Hey.” Ronan crouched down in front of Gansey. He could see him shaking, and Ronan was starting to get more than a little concerned that Gansey hadn’t taken a real breath since before all of this started. 

“Gansey,” he snapped one more time, mere inches away from his face.

That seemed to do the trick, and Gansey’s wide eyes slid to Ronan’s face so he was looking at him, not through him. 

“It’s dead.”

Gansey nodded, before finally sucking in a huge gulp of air, which only further indicated to Ronan that Gansey had not, in fact, been breathing. Ronan stayed silent, and Gansey gratefully took the moments he was given to come back to himself, still crouched on the dirty linoleum that they couldn’t be bothered to clean, with Ronan crouched in front of him, concern apparent in his blue eyes.

“Thank you,” Gansey murmured, ever polite. 

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t fucking do it again, you hear me?”

Gansey lifted an eyebrow. “I can’t exactly control whether insects decide to land on me Ronan.”

He shook his head. “I meant stand in the kitchen like a freak at 3 am and scare the shit out of me.”  _ I meant make me think about what could have happened if I had been asleep.  _

Gansey seemed to hear the meaning behind Ronan’s words and he nodded once, solemnly. 

“Come on,” Ronan held out a hand, helping Gansey up to his feet. They walked out to the main room, where it became apparent that neither of them had any plans to go back to sleep. Ronan glanced over at Gansey, who looked more dead on his feet than Noah usually did, now that the adrenaline had worn off. 

“Are you going back to sleep?” It sounded like a challenge, although that wasn’t Ronan’s intention.

Gansey made some sound between a snort and a laugh. “I haven’t really been sleeping on a good day.”

Ronan frowned. He was used to snatching sleep in between fits of dreaming, of forcing himself to sleep at odd times during the day when his fingers itched to create and the need to be somewhere else just for a minute was too strong. It had been difficult at first, but now Ronan almost never felt short on sleep— not counting the moments when the nightmares became too real.

But Gansey didn’t have that luxury. During the days, he was kept endlessly busy with classes at Aglionby, whatever campaign event his mother was planning, and his ceaseless hunt for Glendower. If Gansey wasn’t sleeping at night, he certainly wasn’t sleeping during the day. Sighing, Ronan laid down on Gansey’s bed.

“What are you doing?” Gansey asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Well if you’re not going to sleep, someone should,” he retorted. 

After a long moment, Gansey settled on to the bed as well.

“I don’t bite you know,” Ronan said, amused at how far away Gansey had managed to place himself while still being on the bed.

Gansey huffed, but slid a little closer. Ronan could still feel the tension rolling off of him like waves. He reached over and pushed Gansey’s arm, the same one that had had death perched on it only minutes earlier. Ronan felt Gansey look at him, clearly still confused, and Ronan just pushed harder. 

Finally, Gansey got the hint and rolled over onto his side, facing away from Ronan. He did the same, mimicking Gansey’s pose, although much more relaxed. In the dark, Ronan could  _ feel  _ his unasked question.

He opened his mouth, and then paused. But there was something infectious and entrancing about the near-complete darkness and the knowledge that they had evaded death in the early hours of an otherwise ordinary morning that compelled Ronan to speak.

“My mom used to do this, when I couldn’t sleep at night. Which was often as a kid. I didn’t know what I was doing or who I was, and well… the nightmares won more often than not back then. Not that they’re much better now—” He broke off suddenly. “Say the word and I’ll go back to my own bed and we’ll never speak of this again.”

There was such a long silence that Ronan would have thought Gansey had fallen asleep if it weren’t for the fact that he could practically hear his mind spinning.

Finally, there was a long sigh. “Stay.” 

Ronan figured it was intended to be a statement, but it sounded a lot like a question. 

“Yeah,” was all he responded as he reached out a hand. He felt rather than saw Gansey startle in the dark, but he settled quickly as Ronan started lightly tracing patterns on his back. 

“She’d come in when I couldn’t sleep, when I would spend the hours of the night tossing and turning. At the time, I wasn’t sure how she always knew, but she did. She’d climb into bed with me, and just do this,” Ronan explained, his voice low. He kept tracing patterns against the fabric of Gansey’s shirt. They were mostly aimless, but occasionally he would throw in a word or phrase, or some letters.

As his fingers moved, he finally felt the tension drop out of Gansey, and felt his shoulders drop into what could almost be considered relaxed. Ronan kept going, tracing the symbols that he could remember from Gansey’s journal, and then moved on to the Latin words they were supposed to have memorized for a quiz, and then back to aimlessness, losing himself in the mindless patterns. 

After what felt like forever and also no time at all, Gansey’s breathing leveled out as he fell asleep. In the dark, Ronan smiled softly.    

When Gansey woke in the morning, Ronan was gone. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Ronan please,” Gansey sighed. 

Ronan returned Gansey’s plea with a wicked grin. “Quit worrying, Mr. President.”

And with that, he snagged the keys for the BMW off the desk and headed out into the growing twilight, the door slamming closed behind him. 

Gansey sat, stunned, in the echoing silence. Well, maybe he just  _ wanted  _ to be stunned, but if he was being completely honest with himself, Ronan’s departure wasn’t necessarily understood, but it was expected. But normally when Gansey asked Ronan to stay, he stayed.  

Gansey sometimes felt there was so much that he didn’t know about Ronan Lynch. 

With Ronan out, probably racing the streets of Henrietta, Gansey knew there would be no chance at sleep. Adam had worked a double shift earlier with another tomorrow after school, and Gansey would rather abandon his hunt for Glendower completely than take Adam away from any rest he might be able to get. He sighed and settled himself on the floor in front of his model of Henrietta. It hadn’t yet been expanded far enough to reach Monmouth, and Gansey intended to change that. No time like the present. 

He was making good progress, and had managed to add three more complete streets when his phone rang, piercing through the silence. Gansey jumped, sending the map of Henrietta that he had open on his lap flying. He took a deep breath to settle his nerves and sent a disapproving glare in its general direction. But, it was rude to not answer when he was awake to hear it, so Gansey stretched his arm up to the desk, feeling around with his fingertips until they made contact with the phone. He grabbed it and pulled it down, checking the caller ID. 

Helen’s name flashed up at him, and Gansey closed his eyes for a moment before answering. 

“Ah Dick, good. I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake,” Helen said by way of a greeting. “What was the name of that song that played at Mom’s last gala event? You know, the one they danced to.”

A flash of irritation surged through Gansey. Maybe if it wasn’t quickly approaching 2 am, or maybe if he could get this roof to stay on at the right angle, or maybe if Ronan’s door was closed instead of wide open, Gansey wouldn’t have been so bothered by the question. But it seemed such a trivial thing to be asked in his moonlit bedroom, with one old lamp buzzing on the corner of his desk adding an additional glow and the only source of noise. Didn’t Helen know 2 am was a time reserved for secrets and confessions, for the truths that couldn’t be told during the day?

“It was the Waltz of the Flowers,” he answered mechanically. 

“Ah you know, I think you’re right. I should have remembered that.” Helen’s voice was loud, too loud in his ear after the silence of Monmouth. He turned the volume down. “I’ll let you get back to whatever project you’re working on.”

Gansey felt his heart drop. “Was that all you needed?”

Helen laughed on the other end of the line, and Gansey turned the volume down another couple of clicks. “Don’t worry, Dick. I’ll let you get back to chasing dead kings or whatever it is you do at nearly two in the morning.” And with that, the line clicked dead.

He held it up to ear for a moment longer before setting it down on the floor next to him, where it was hidden in the shadows. There were times when he had nothing to say to his sister, and times when he thought he might pour out his entire soul to her. Tonight had seemed like the latter. But maybe he was wrong—it was probably for the best anyways, Helen wasn’t always a great listener. 

Gansey kept working, finally getting the angle on the rooftops just right, and contemplated moving onto another street. His vision was blurry and his eyes had been closing of their own accord for a while, so he decided it was probably time to attempt to sleep. Despite Ronan and Adam’s insistances, Gansey was neither a superhero nor a god. 

Reaching up to his desk, he felt around for his phone, before remembering that he had set it on the floor next to him. He reached there instead, mildly curious as to what time it actually was. There was no light filtering in from outside yet, so Gansey figured it must still be early. 

When Gansey lit up his phone, he saw two things. 

The first: It was 4:23 am.

The second: He had two missed calls from Ronan Lynch.

The world stopped spinning, and Gansey stopped breathing. During his call with Helen, he had turned the volume down so low that it must have been muted. He dialed Ronan’s number immediately, each ring ratcheting up his anxiety and adrenaline levels. He no longer felt the tug of sleep. 

“Sure, now you answer,” Ronan grumbled on the other end of the line. Dizzying relief flooded through Gansey, and he had to lean back against his desk for support. 

“Ronan,” he breathed out. “What happened? Where are you?”

Ronan didn’t make social calls. In fact, Ronan didn’t make any calls. He only carried a phone as a formality, and only then because Gansey had practically begged him. In the end, he had gotten Ronan to promise to carry it, although Gansey couldn’t make him promise to use it. 

“Nothing that you’ll approve of,” Ronan replied. He sounded slightly out of breath, which was enough to keep Gansey’s anxiety levels high.

“Ronan,” Gansey repeated, and this time it sounded like a plea. 

On the other end of the line, Ronan relented. “Things got out of hand. The original plan was to go to the Barns, and then I ran into a Ferrari that was born to race. We got on the highway, raced south. I won. Flipped the BMW, but I won.” 

Gansey opened his mouth to retort, but then the rest of Ronan’s statement hit him. “You  _ what _ ?”  
  
Ronan made some irritated sound or another. “Yeah, she’s toast man. Worse than when I crashed the P—I guess I’ll just dream another later.”

Still leaning against the desk, Gansey pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Are you okay?”

A sound of confirmation. “Just wanted to let you know not to wait up for me. And it’s raining.”

Gansey was already on his feet, and he snatched the Camaro keys off of the desk while putting his shoes on. “Where are you at?”

“I think I passed mile marker 100 last. I stopped paying attention, it’s a straight fucking line.”

“That’s at least twenty miles away.” Guilt crept through Gansey, followed closely by irritation, and then a second wave of guilt. It wasn’t his fault Ronan had crashed his car, but it was his fault that he had been too preoccupied to come to Ronan’s aid earlier. “How fast were you driving anyways?” He snapped. He didn’t mean to let the disapproval slide into his tone, but his guilt and worry had chipped away at his calm. “I’m on my way.”

“You don’t have to come get me, Dad,” Ronan snarked. “I’m an adult, I can handle myself.”

Gansey scrubbed a hand over his face. “One, too late. Two, you’re only seventeen.” He didn’t mean to start a fight either, but he couldn’t take back what had already been said.

There was silence on the other end of the line. Gansey knew Ronan well enough to know that this silence was him not wanting to give in and accept help. “The way you drive, I’ll probably be home before you leave the parking lot.”

Gansey snorted at that, thankful that Ronan had extended an olive branch instead of rising to the bait. He must really be sick of walking. 

The line went dead as Gansey urged the Pig out onto the road, which was for the best anyways. Phone calls were next to impossible over the Pig’s incessant roar. And Gansey often had a difficult time balancing a phone, the steering wheel, and the gear shift on a good day, and he was not in top form right now.

He drove through the poorly lit streets of Henrietta and got out onto the freeway, his windshield wipers going. It wasn’t raining hard, but it was enough that the wipers were necessary, and Gansey worried that Ronan was going to catch a cold from being out in it. As if Ronan needed another excuse to skip his classes. 

When he got around mile marker 103, Gansey slowed down. He was the only one on the road, and he didn’t want to miss Ronan in the rain. Finally, he saw a figure, head bowed against the rain, and he wrestled the Camaro to the side of the road.   

Ronan flopped into the passenger’s side, not bothering to shake off any of the water before landing on the leather seat. Gansey thought he ought to be annoyed, but he was too busy being grateful to see Ronan in one piece. 

He really was soaking wet, and wearing a glower on his face that indicated he would rather not talk at the moment, so Gansey stuffed down his own morbid curiosity and relief, and steered the Pig back onto the road towards home. 

As soon as Gansey shifted into park, Ronan flung the door open and headed up the steps into Monmouth, not bothering to close either behind him. Gansey took a moment to collect himself, and then followed, making sure to close and lock the Pig’s doors. 

Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, he saw Ronan’s bedroom door shut, light seeping out from under the crack. Gansey tried to imagine what it was like to be Ronan, and to be so angry all the time. He’d raced out in the middle of the night to go pick him up from the rain, and had been rewarded with sullen silence. But Gansey knew that he would do it again and again and again regardless. There was no universe in which he wouldn’t drop everything to help Ronan. 

Gansey suddenly realized how tired he was. He had no way to be sure, but he felt like he had aged ten years in one night. He crawled into bed, and plugged his phone into the extension cord he rigged to reach the center of the room. His head had just hit his pillow when light spilled on him from Ronan’s room. 

“Gansey?”

Again, sleep was snatched away from him. “Yeah, Ronan?”

The light switched off, and then there was silence. Gansey assumed Ronan had gone back to bed and closed his eyes to do the same when he felt the mattress sink down. His eyes snapped back open. 

In the dark, he could see Ronan’s form, and could feel the heat radiating off of him. While this wasn’t the first time Ronan had been in his bed, Gansey wasn’t sure what the protocol here was, so he remained silent, waiting for Ronan to initiate… something. Ronan was a lot of things, but patient was not one of them. 

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

It wasn’t an accusation, but it made Gansey wince all the same. “No,” he agreed. “I was on the phone with Helen earlier and she was too loud. I must have turned the volume off on accident.”

There was silence, stretched thin in the moment. “I thought I wasn’t going to be able to do it.” Ronan’s voice was low, and Gansey had to strain to hear him. In the dark, Gansey thought he was staring up at the ceiling, but he could have just as easily had his eyes closed. 

“Do what?” Gansey asked, 

There was another moment of silence. “Keep my promise to you.”

For the second time that night, Gansey’s heart stopped, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He knew instantly what Ronan was referring to. Gansey knew now that Ronan’s suicide attempt hadn’t really been that—it had just been a particularly violent nightmare. But Gansey also knew he would never forget the horror of seeing Ronan with seemingly more blood on the outside than inside, or that trip to the hospital, or all the nights where he didn’t sleep because he was terrified Ronan wouldn’t be there when he woke up.

“Gansey, say something,” Ronan’s voice sounded raw, desperate.

Gansey realized that he had gotten sucked into his own head and, with a huge effort, pulled himself back to the present. A vague suggestion of light had begun filtering in through the windows, and Gansey tried to focus on that, to ground himself in the present. He knew if he looked at Ronan he would be hurled back to that night, so he kept his gaze firmly on the ceiling. 

“You don’t lie,” was all he managed to say. 

Ronan released a breath. “No. Are we okay?”

Gansey considered that. He was mad that Ronan had left, certainly, and was mad that he had been so worried. But he had never thought they were anything but ok. “Yeah Ronan, we’re okay.” He finally looked over, and in the minimal light, he thought he saw a soft smile on Ronan’s lips, although that might have been his imagination. 

He felt his eyes drooping, again, now that he was reasonably sure there was nothing else to be worried about, but he forced them back open. 

“Gansey.”

He hummed, words escaping him at the moment. 

“You should sleep.”

Gansey could feel Ronan’s eyes on him, and felt the mattress dip again as Ronan moved closer, their arms touching. “So should you,” he mumbled, eyes already closed. 

“You first, and I’ll follow,” was the reply, and Gansey was sure he could hear a smile in Ronan’s voice now. 

“I’d follow you anywhere,” he finished, this admission almost inaudible. It wouldn’t have mattered whether the other boy could hear him or not, because Gansey was already asleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

Ronan crumpled up another piece of paper and flung it in the general direction of the trash can, which also happened to be Gansey’s general direction, from his vantage point on Gansey’s bed. He was up, so Ronan was up, but he didn’t have to be happy about their use of time. 

The wad of paper bounced off of Gansey’s head before landing in the trash on top of the rest of the crumpled paper balls that had made it to their target.

Gansey looked up sharply and Ronan snickered. 

“Can you at least pretend to care about this?” Gansey was using his dad voice again, and Ronan shrugged.

“We’ve already covered that I don’t lie,” he pointed out. 

Gansey turned his attention back to his book, shifting on the wooden floor where he was sitting. Ronan grinned and took aim, launching his next paper ball directly at Gansey. It hit him square in the face.

There was a pause where nothing happened, and then Gansey looked up again, slowly. “Ronan. Can I help you? Because you certainly aren’t helping me.”

Ronan looked at him, and decided he quite liked the way Gansey’s forehead wrinkled when he was annoyed. It was something he never saw enough of—Gansey with real human emotions. 

“I’m bored,” he proclaimed. 

Gansey took a deep breath, like someone preparing to deal with a petulant child. “Would it kill you to care about your classes, even a little? This is a Latin exam, you love Latin.”

Ronan snorted. “Yeah, and you suck at it.” Gansey had been muttering phrases under his breath for the better part of an hour. It was endearing, if slightly annoying. 

He looked at Ronan for a moment longer and then back down at his textbook without a word.

“Gansey.”

“What, Ronan?” Perhaps Ronan had pushed too far, because Gansey didn’t snap at him often. 

“If I quiz you in the car, can we go for a drive?”

Gansey considered this, while Ronan considered Gansey. 

“Where to?” He asked cautiously. Saying yes to Ronan without details was just as likely to end in jail as it was back at Monmouth, and Gansey didn’t have time for that. 

Ronan shrugged. “I don’t care. But studying Latin in the living room at 10 am on a Saturday is too fucking depressing.”

He gave Gansey his best imitation of puppy eyes, and Gansey laughed—a genuine sound that made Ronan’s breath catch in his throat. No real human being sounded like that. 

“Alright, but if you’re going to quiz me, we’re taking the BMW. I don’t feel like shouting over the Pig.”

Ronan’s eyes gleamed. “Then I’m driving.”

Gansey pursed his lips, clearly not thrilled with the idea, but he nodded. “Sure.”  

“Hell yeah!” Ronan fist pumped the air as he jumped up to put his shoes on and grab the keys. His newly dreamt ‘drea-MW’, as Noah had dubbed it, didn’t need a key since it didn’t have an engine. But, Ronan had dreamed a set anyways just for the aesthetic. It wasn’t much fun to ask someone to toss you the keys when your car had no keys. 

Gansey followed Ronan to the parking lot at a much more reasonable pace, his Latin book tucked under his arm. 

“You won’t need that,” Ronan pointed out as Gansey got in the car. 

“Just drive, Lynch,” Gansey sighed. 

Ronan didn’t need to be told twice, and he raced out of the parking lot, Gansey grabbing on to the handle above the door.

“You’re such an old man,” Ronan commented, but there was no heat behind it. He was driving a car that he had pulled from his dreams that ran without an engine, and Gansey was sitting in the passenger seat. Ronan felt like he was  _ living _ . It wasn’t that Ronan had anything against Adam or Noah or Blue. It was just that sometimes he longed for the old days when it was just him and Gansey against the universe: when he didn’t have to compete for Gansey’s attention, his dad was still alive, and things were right in the world.  

“I’ve been reliably informed that that is true, yes. We’re going for a drive. Are you going to keep up your end of the deal now?” Gansey said, and Ronan could almost picture him rolling his eyes. 

The light turned yellow and Ronan prepared to step on the accelerator, but the sight of Gansey out of the corner of his eye made him step on the break instead. “You want the English, or the Latin?”

Gansey considered this like it was a philosophical question or a problem that deserved all of his attention to solve. “The English.”

Ronan didn’t have the list of words they were supposed to know, but he didn’t need it. Latin came as easily as dreaming to him, which was to say, it happened effortlessly but often tried to kill him, although in a more metaphorical sense than physical.

“Alright, we’ll start easy. Middle.” Ronan’s eyes scanned the road ahead, and he was conscious enough to stay only ten over the speed limit out of respect for Gansey. 

“ _ Medius _ ,” Gansey responded easily. 

“To fear,” Ronan tried next. 

Gansey’s head turned away from Ronan. “ _ Timor. _ ”

“Beautiful.” 

Ronan had to admit the view outside of Henrietta was breathtaking, and he drank in the sights as he drove down the winding country road. He didn’t have a destination in mind, but he had nowhere to be that was more important than here. 

He began firing off words, and Gansey kept up easily, which was no surprise to Ronan. Unlike him, Gansey had a work ethic and attended his classes. “ _ Pulcher _ .”

“Extraordinary.”

“ _ Mirabilis. _ ”

Gansey pressed his finger against his lips. 

“To feel”

“ _ Sentit _ .”

“To want.”

“ _ Cupit. _ ”

“ _ Frustr _ _ ā _ .” This time, it was Ronan who offered the Latin after a moment of silence.  _ In vain _ . 

“Is that one on the list?” Gansey asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

Ronan shook his head once. “Probably not.”

All at once, it hit him. He was exhausted. Sometimes the world felt too heavy, too much work, too wrong, and now was one of those times. That spark he felt earlier, the certainty of  _ living _ was gone, replaced by something much duller and heavier. Ronan sighed and brough the BMW to a screeching halt before turning around in an empty dirt lot on the side of the road. 

He could see Gansey look at him, see the question written all over his face, but he stayed blissfully silent. 

They drove a few miles, this new silence settled over them uneasily. Ronan could still see the look of concern on Gansey’s face, but he pointedly ignored him, staring straight out of the windshield. 

After a few more minutes of this, Gansey sighed and opened his textbook. He was no stranger to Ronan’s mercurial moods. 

Seeing Gansey’s attention turn to his book spiked something in Ronan, and he wasn’t sure what to call it. Anger, maybe? Or perhaps it was something with less edges—sorrow? Loss? Ronan wasn’t sure either of those were right either, but whatever it was, it only weighed his mood down further. 

They arrived back to Monmouth, Gansey still absorbed in his book, muttering the Latin under his breath, a look of complete concentration on his face that simultaneously made Ronan more and less angry. 

  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Gansey asked softly, finally looking up as Ronan threw the car into park. 

Ronan didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on some invisible point in front of him.    
  
Gansey sighed, and grabbed the door handle, pushing it out and away from himself.    
  
“ _ Ego amare te, te amentis, _ ” Ronan spat vehemently. Those words had been part of what was weighing Ronan down, and he had thought he might feel better getting them out. He didn’t.  

“I didn’t catch that,” Gansey leaned back in through the car door. 

Ronan’s gaze was still fixed straight ahead. His vision blurry was but he refused to blink. 

  
“Alright,” Gansey replied, voice even, before heading up the steps and through the front door. 

Ronan wasn’t sure how long he sat in the BMW. Long enough that the sun beating down on him was finally more unbearable than the thought of going inside. He got out and slammed the door hard enough to make the entire car frame rattle, not bothering to lock it behind him. He could always dream another. 

“Ronan,” Gansey said as Ronan entered. 

But he strode by, not stopping to look at Gansey or give him a response. Or, that was his intention.

Instead, as he stormed by, Gansey reached out and grabbed Ronan’s arm. He whirled around, and his first and only instinct was to lash out, until he saw the look on Gansey’s face. His usual fatherly concern was obvious and present, but there was something else beneath his carefully crafted mask.  _ Timor.  _ Fear.

Ronan could only guess what Gansey was afraid of. His anger immediately ebbed, leaving Ronan full of nothing now that the anger was no longer holding him up, and he deflated.

Gansey was still staring at him, and Ronan stared back, but all of the heat he felt before was gone. He felt the same as he did when he had turned the BMW around—heavy.

“We don’t need to talk about it, but don’t shut yourself away. Stay here.”

Ronan laughed, a hollow laugh. Gansey had no idea what was wrong, and yet he still came forth to offer the words that Ronan needed to hear. Some of them anyways.

He didn’t answer, but he sat down on Gansey’s bed. It still felt strange to him, sitting here, but it wasn’t the first time he had been on Gansey’s bed lately, so some of the taboo feeling had worn off. That didn’t prevent the slight rush that coursed through Ronan as he did. 

Gansey literally flopped down next to him, and Ronan was forced to look up at the ceiling. How Gansey could perform such a ridiculous action and still make it look choreographed was beyond Ronan’s comprehension. He yawned, and Ronan had to stifle a small smile. 

“Am I keeping you up?” He asked with one eyebrow cocked, bad mood not forgotten, but pushed aside. 

“I don’t have time to nap,” Gansey replied, putting what sounded like an air of disdain on the word ‘nap’ to the untrained ear. But Ronan was not untrained—he knew more about Gansey than he did himself most days. He could hear the twinge of wistfulness under the disdain, and that made up Ronan’s mind. 

He couldn’t bring himself to flop, but he laid down, an arm under the back of his neck. “Why not?”

Gansey made a noise of disapproval. “Ronan, you know we have things to do. This Latin exam for one—”

“Already studied, you know all the words. And it’s only Saturday, the exam is Tuesday.”

“—And I told my mom I’d look into places she could hold her next campaign event—”

“You’re lying to yourself if you think Helen hasn’t already done that—”

“—And we just got a lead on a cave where we might find Glendower. You remember I picked up those books a couple days ago,” Gansey finished. 

Ronan turned to study his friend. “Glendower has waited this long, I think he can wait a few more hours. Plus, Blue would kill you if you went spelunking without her, and she works at Nino’s today,” he pointed out.           

Gansey let out a huff of frustration. “You’re right, I know.”

A wicked grin spread across Ronan’s face. “Say that again.”

“You’re right,” Gansey said simply. 

“Fuck yeah I am,” Ronan replied. He paused for a moment, steeling himself. Then he reached over and pushed on Gansey’s arm. It took him far less time to realize what Ronan was after, and a few moments later, rolled over onto his side. 

“You need to learn how to stop, Gansey.” Ronan was probably in no place to be giving this particular advice—he didn’t know how to stop either, unless it was due to a spectacular, headfirst crash complete with explosions. 

“You’re right,” was all Gansey replied. 

Ronan started tracing patterns on his back. It felt right, it felt safe, it felt terrifying, and it felt sacrilegious in the light of day. But Ronan was never one to heed warning signs. If anything, they made him want something even more. So he kept going.

As he drew entire universes against the fabric of Gansey’s shirt, he felt his bad mood melt away into nothing. Ronan wasn’t a fan of remaining still for long, but he thought he could probably stay here forever.

He kept going, endlessly, around in circles, long after Gansey had drifted off into sleep. When he felt his own eyes beginning to droop, the hollow feeling in his chest returned. He fought against sleep, but Ronan was experienced enough with the concept to know it was a losing battle. 

Suddenly, Ronan snapped his eyes open, heart racing as he looked around. Everything was exactly as he left it, which meant he couldn’t have been out for more than a few seconds. A wave of bitterness rose in his throat like bile, but he got up and padded silently to his own bedroom, shutting the door soundly behind him. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Ronan, just drive. Please.”

He needed Ronan to do this for him and not ask questions. Gansey wasn’t sure he could answer them right now in any coherent way that wouldn’t get him into more trouble. 

Ronan figured something was going on, but he didn’t really know exactly how bad it was until Gansey asked him to drive the Pig. Then, Ronan knew something was really wrong. Gansey held out the keys, but Ronan didn’t move, letting them dangle in the air. “What happened?”

Gansey scrubbed a hand over his face. “Adam and I fought again.”

He had just been trying to help, and he thought Adam had to know that. Adam needed parts to repair his car and money for said parts to repair his car. Gansey had more money than he would ever know what to do with, and had offered to buy the parts for Adam. It wasn’t supposed to be an act of charity. Gansey just wanted to help a friend who was in need and deserved it. However, Adam hadn’t seen it that way, and the barbed words he had hurled in Gansey’s direction had found their marks. 

The result left him feeling drained and lifeless on his feet, and what little emotion he had left was currently being channeled unfairly as irritation towards Ronan for not doing what Gansey asked. Some of it must have shown on his face, because Ronan took the Camaro keys without another word and walked around to the driver’s side.  

They drove without speaking. No ride in the Pig was silent—far from it, as the engine roared and various parts rattled, but the Pig’s passengers were silent.   

“Ronan, you missed the turn for Cabeswater,” Gansey said wearily. He didn’t have the energy for Ronan’s shenanigans. He just wanted to collapse on his bed for roughly the next year or so, but there were things that needed to get done first, and this trip had been planned for at least two weeks now.

“We’re not going to Cabeswater,” Ronan retorted.    
  
“Look, Ronan today was awful and I just want—”

“Gansey, do you trust me?” Ronan asked over top of Gansey’s voice and the uproar of the Pig.

He blinked owlishly. “Yes, of course.” Gansey was taken aback that Ronan even had to ask. Maybe Adam was right. Maybe he had been a shitty friend lately. 

“Alright, then sit back and shut up. Take a nap or something, you look like shit,” Ronan said, but Gansey could see a slight grin playing around his lips. It wasn’t much, but it improved his mood a fraction. 

Gansey settled back into the seat. He already fought with Adam, and he didn’t think he could bear fighting with Ronan too. It wasn’t often that he was a passenger in his own car, and it was nice to let someone else be in control for once. Gansey really wasn’t feeling up to doing much, but he did trust Ronan. And if Ronan needed his help with something elsewhere, Gansey would put on a brave face and offer as much as he could. But until then, it probably wouldn’t hurt for him to just rest his eyes.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up,” Ronan nudged his arm. 

Gansey sat up quickly, looking around. The Pig was idling, and Ronan was looking at him expectantly. He hadn’t actually planned to fall asleep, despite how drained he had been feeling. Instantly, he felt guilty that he had left Ronan alone for the duration of the ride, although Gansey wasn’t exactly sure how far they had gone. 

“Sorry, I’m awake. Where are we?”

He was looking out the window, but he couldn’t see much of anything. In front of them was a field of some sort, probably wheat. But it was overgrown like it hadn’t been tended to in years, and the native vegetation was clearly winning the war that was being waged. To their right was an old, dilapidated barn that looked like it might blow over in a stiff breeze.  

For a second, Gansey thought that Ronan looked uneasy, but as soon as he had the thought, the look vanished, and Gansey figured it was an aftereffect of just having woken up. He stifled a yawn.  

“I want to show you something,” Ronan said, flinging open his door. Gansey frowned, but followed him out of the car. 

Ronan headed out through the field and Gansey followed. Normally, he would be worried about trespassing, but it was clear no one had been here in ages. The sun was beating down overhead, still hot in the afternoon hours as they continued walking. 

The only sound was that of the plants swishing against their clothes as they pushed their way through, and the light whispering of the breeze. Gansey let himself zone out, and let Ronan lead him to whatever their destination was.

Suddenly, Ronan veered to the right, and Gansey startled out of his mild daze to turn as well. In front of them was a small grove of trees that Gansey hadn’t been able to see before. It must have been hidden behind the barn, although Gansey was surprised it had been able to hide anything.

Ronan led them into the middle of the copse and then stopped. He tilted his head back and took a deep breath. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go to Cabeswater if you can’t trust your emotions. I found this place back when—when I wasn’t allowed at the Barns. But it reminds me of Cabeswater,” Ronan admitted, his back to Gansey. 

Gansey was paying attention now, and he looked around at where Ronan had brought him. It really was reminiscent of Cabeswater, just much smaller and only slightly less magical. The afternoon light was filtering down through the canopy, creating sunbeams of dust motes that swirled lazily around them. The air felt still, but there was a slight chill to it that felt calming, and it smelled of moisture and earth. It was a welcome respite from the heat of the day. Gansey took in a slow, deep breath, and he could feel the tensions starting to melt away. 

He marveled at it. It was no Cabeswater, but this place was almost  _ more _ magical because it lacked the magic of Cabeswater. Everything was so green—especially compared to the brown field they had travelled through to get here. He closed his eyes and let the sounds wash over him.

At first, the miniature forest had seemed silent, but when Gansey stopped to listen, it was far from it. He could hear the leaves rustling overhead, so different from the talking trees in Cabeswater, and yet incredibly similar. Insects were buzzing around, but for once Gansey didn’t feel the flutter of fear.

He opened his eyes to see Ronan staring at him, his mouth slightly agape. He looked away quickly, not sure how he felt to have caught Ronan watching him. But his slight embarrassment couldn’t mask the serene energy that this place was giving off. 

“You’re right, this place is brilliant,” Gansey smiled as he stretched a hand out into the sunbeam next to him, marvelling at the way the sun spread over it and the dust swirled out of the way. 

“I used to come here a lot,” Ronan said. “Something about it feels like home, even though it’s nowhere near the Barns.” He lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross legged on a mat of leaves. After a moment, Gansey joined him, mimicking his position. 

The leaves were cool and almost damp to the touch, but not wet enough to cause concern. The earthy smell was stronger here, and Gansey relished it. He closed his eyes again, just breathing in. 

“Parrish doesn’t know everything, you know.”

Gansey just hummed in agreement, not opening his eyes. He didn’t believe Ronan, but he wasn’t going to argue.  

There was a slight rustling sound, and Gansey cracked his eyes open to see that Ronan had shifted closer. He hesitated for a moment,then closed his eyes again. 

He felt Ronan’s hand on his arm, warmer than Gansey could remember his arm ever feeling. But it was pleasant, and Gansey leaned into the touch. He wasn’t sure exactly what happened next, but he realized then that he was laying on his back on the soft mat of leaves, his head in Ronan’s lap. Gansey tensed and prepared to pull away, but then Ronan ran his fingers through Gansey’s hair and Gansey shuddered. 

“Gansey.” Ronan’s voice was light, but the question was plain to hear.  _ Is this okay? _   
  
“Ronan,” Gansey replied, and the answer was obvious.  _ God, yes. _

They stayed that way for a few moments, Gansey with his eyes closed and his head in Ronan’s lap as Ronan played with his hair. And really, it wasn’t fair. Gansey was finding it incredibly hard to think straight, or even to think at all. But one thought got stuck in the grasp of his mind. 

“Why did you bring me here?” Gansey asked. 

Ronan snorted. “Because Parrish doesn’t know everything.”

Gansey hummed, not sure how to explain the sudden weight that formed on his chest with that answer. 

“Gansey.” He finally opened his eyes, and Ronan was looking down at him, and for a moment, Gansey forgot what they had been talking about. He knew that he didn’t remember Ronan’s eyes being that blue.   

Ronan was silent for a moment before trying a second time. “I brought you here because I knew you would see the magic in it.”

The weight on Gansey’s chest transformed, and a tingling warmness spread through him. He didn’t think words existed to adequately describe the feeling of being  _ known _ that coursed through him. It felt like joy, but calmer. It felt like contentment, but bolder. By bringing him here, Ronan was offering Gansey a piece of his soul, and he offered it based on the knowledge that Gansey would appreciate it and would cherish it.

Ronan knew that Gansey made a habit of finding the extraordinary in the mundane, and that what others saw as commonplace could be a marvel to him. He had spent years hunting for an ancient, magical king who had saved his life, but he still valued everything that came his way in the meantime. He would abandon his hunt for Glendower without a second thought if it meant helping his friends.

All at once, Gansey didn’t feel worthy of the attention of kings, and he certainly didn’t feel worthy of the attention of Ronan. The feeling was overwhelming, and Gansey closed his eyes again. 

“Gansey?” He could hear Ronan’s concern, but didn’t answer him. 

Ronan started moving his fingers through his hair again, and Gansey relaxed despite himself. It was hard to hold onto the thoughts of Ronan not wanting to spend time with him when his hands were trailing against his scalp. He couldn’t stop the small sigh that escaped him. 

The next time he opened his eyes, it was nearly dark. Sunlight was no longer filtering down through the canopy, and the motes were long gone. He blinked, confused. 

“Jesus, what time is it?” He sat up, startling Ronan. “You should have woken me, I didn’t mean to...”

He trailed off as he looked at Ronan, sitting in the middle of the woods and looking like he belonged here. This forest was his, and Gansey was simply a visitor in this hallowed place. Gansey had to stop and collect his thoughts. Being woken from his second nap in one day was disorienting.  

Ronan shrugged. “I used to come and sit here all day and all night sometimes. You taking a nap doesn’t bother me.” 

“What time is it?” Gansey asked again. 

And again, Ronan just shrugged. He wasn’t wearing a watch and he had left his phone in the Camaro. 

Gansey sighed. “We should probably go back to Monmouth.”

Ronan nodded, but made no move to get up.

“Ronan.” Gansey waited until he had Ronan’s full attention before he continued, “Thank you.”  _ For bringing me here. For knowing what I needed. For knowing me. For being here.  _

He couldn’t say the words, but he could see from Ronan’s smile that he didn’t have to. Ronan stood up and stretched, wiping leaves off of his pants before stretching out a hand to help Gansey up. 

They walked back through the field together, towards the Camaro. It wasn’t as dark as it had seemed under the dense canopy, and twilight was just settling in. The light rustling of the wheat grass was now accompanied by a chorus of cicadas, and it struck Gansey how loud, angry, violent Ronan had seemed so at ease in such a quiet, peaceful place. The dichotomy shouldn’t have made sense, but to Gansey it was the only thing that did. 

He let Ronan drive home, only partially because he still wasn’t sure where they were in relation to Monmouth or Henrietta. 

Ronan drove, and Gansey didn’t think he’d ever seen Ronan drive this close to the speed limit, hovering only two or three miles over. Ronan always wanted to drive the Camaro—it was a beast to handle and Ronan loved the thrill. But tonight was an uneventful ride, and both boys were lost in thought. 

The darkness grew around them, and Gansey noticed Ronan’s hands on the wheel, illuminated by moonlight, and couldn’t stop remembering how it felt when Ronan carded them through his hair. He knew it would be a long while before he forgot that. 

Back at Monmouth, Ronan parked the car after actually coming to a complete stop first, and they both got out. Gansey took his keys and unlocked the door, as Ronan pushed by him.

“Ronan?” Gansey called after him.

“What?” Ronan answered back, already halfway to his room. 

Gansey paused. He had thought about what he was going to say on the ride back, but now that it was time to actually say it, Gansey forgot everything he had come up with. “Would you want to stay the night with me?”

He felt silly asking it. They already spent every night just a room apart. But Gansey wanted that distance to be less, and he wasn’t sure how else to approach the subject.

Almost to his room, Ronan froze. He was silent for a long time. 

Gansey felt his good mood start to evaporate and he shifted uneasily. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked. Forgive me.”

Ronan remained silently frozen for another long moment, before continuing to his room and closing the door without a word.

Gansey nodded. He hadn’t expected that, not after the day they had together, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He had asked a lot from Ronan without actually asking Ronan, and Ronan had gone along with all of it.

In spite of the two naps he had taken that day, Gansey quickly fell into a fitful sleep, his mind rejecting consciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

Ronan glared down at his phone as it rang again.

“Are you going to answer that?” Gansey asked, not looking up from the article he was reading. They were both lying on Gansey’s bed after a long day of classes that Ronan had actually attended. Gansey was working on something, reading some article about some dead language or another, and Ronan was daydreaming, although not in the literal sense. 

Ronan snorted. “Definitely not,” he replied, as the ringing finally stopped. Then, Gansey’s phone began to ring. 

He looked up at Ronan and cocked an eyebrow. Irritation prickled through Ronan. “Do you want me to answer it?”

It was Declan, calling Gansey because Ronan hadn’t picked up the three times his phone had rang in the last half hour. Ronan made a noncommittal noise. 

“Ronan, I need an actual answer on this one.” 

He thought about saying no, but he had to admit he was slightly curious as to what was a big enough deal that he called Ronan three times and then switched to calling Gansey. It wasn’t like it was uncommon for Ronan and Gansey to be together, and it was common knowledge that Ronan never answered his phone, but he was surprised his brother was actually trying Gansey’s. Ronan wasn’t going to answer on principle, but there was nothing that said Gansey couldn’t talk to Declan. 

“Yeah, fine. He’s just going to keep calling if you don’t,” Ronan muttered. 

Gansey sighed before grabbing his phone and accepting the call. 

“Good evening, Declan, sorry about that. My phone wasn’t on me at the moment. What can I do for you?” After a pause, he glanced at Ronan. “No, he’s not available to talk right now, but I’d love to take a message for you.” It wasn’t technically a lie. Ronan wasn’t available to talk to Declan, simply because he didn’t want to. 

He and Gansey were close enough on the bed that Ronan could hear Declan’s voice, although he couldn’t make out what was being said on the other end of the line. It sounded like he was angry, but with Declan and Gansey both using their best politician-doing-an-interview voices, it was hard to tell. 

Whatever Declan said made Gansey frown and glance over at Ronan again. “I am sorry to hear that as well,” his voice turned frosty and his eyes narrowed, which for Gansey was the equivalent of punching something. “I am well aware of what I said.”

More silence, other than the indistinct droning of Declan’s voice.   

“Yes, thank you for your concern. Yes, I’ll be sure to let him know that you called,” Gansey finished, and then the line went dead.

Gansey set the phone down and looked at Ronan, his head slightly cocked to the side. It was very well hidden, but Ronan could see the disapproval in his eyes.  

“Well?” Ronan snapped. He didn’t like the way Gansey was looking at him. That look said that he had done something wrong. And he didn’t like that Gansey was apparently siding with Declan on whatever that was. 

“Declan said he got a letter in the mail that they’re kicking you out of Aglionby because your attendance is too low.” Finally his frown made an appearance and Ronan couldn’t stand the sight of it.

“Gansey, you know we’ve had this conversation. I don’t care. Aglionby does nothing for me. I could literally be doing anything anywhere else and be happier. I don’t need Aglionby, and Aglionby definitely doesn’t need me.”

It was not the first time they had this fight, and with graduation still months away, Ronan was sure it wouldn’t be the last time either. He had no intentions of attending classes regularly, and only went as often as he did because Gansey asked him to. Ronan felt guiltier disappointing Gansey than he ever would about missing his classes.  

Gansey was silent for a moment. He didn’t want to have this fight again either. “He also said hello.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “That was just a formality for you. He has to keep up the politician act now that he’s living in D.C. with the other politicians trying to fuck up the world. You’re friends with me, so he’ll do what it takes to stay on your good side by doing brotherly things. Gotta stay on good terms with Richard Gansey the Third in case he needs something from your mom someday.”

Gansey winced, and Ronan immediately regretted the words, but it was too late to take them back. 

“What did he accuse you of?” Ronan asked after Gansey remained silent for too long. He didn’t know what Declan had said, but he knew Gansey’s reactions well enough to know that Declan had offended him. 

He sighed. “I promised him before that I wouldn’t let you get kicked out of Aglionby. He told me I wasn't worth trusting.” His face was blank, but Ronan felt anger rising in himself anyways at his brother’s words. He was going to kill his brother next time he saw him. 

Gansey shrugged then, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t make you love Aglionby, but I’ve been doing my best to keep you there.”

And now Ronan found himself between a rock and a hard place. He didn’t understand it, but he knew that Aglionby stood for some shiny ideal for Gansey. It wasn’t a marker of status—Gansey didn’t need that. But Aglionby held something for Gansey that Ronan couldn’t identify and would never relate to. He didn’t want to stay. He didn’t care to stay. 

But Ronan didn’t want to disappoint Gansey, either. Ronan hated liars and people who broke promises, and the fact that he was turning Gansey into one of those people did not rest easy with him. The worst part was, Ronan was sure that Gansey had believed it when he promised Declan that he could get Ronan to stay. 

“He does care about you, you know,” Gansey added as an afterthought. He turned his head so he was looking at Ronan, his hazel gaze heavy. 

It bothered Ronan that Gansey probably believed that as well. 

“He does. He just doesn’t know—”

“Gansey,” Ronan interrupted. “Can we just…  not.”

Gansey pursed his lips and then relaxed. “What do you think about Glendower being in Cabeswater?”

And of course when Gansey was pressed for a subject change, the subject changed to Glendower. But Ronan didn’t mind. This was something Gansey was passionate about, and because he cared, Ronan did too. Also, Glendower had the added bonus of being about as far from Declan as possible. 

He considered for a moment. “If he was in Henrietta, I feel like you would have found him by now. But we’ve only just started exploring Cabeswater. It’s as good a place as any.”   
  
“Exactly!” Gansey exclaimed, his eyes bright. “I think we need a plan, to search through all of it.”   


“How would we do that? Cabeswater is different every time we go in. It plays off of our thoughts and our emotions. Since it hasn’t already, I doubt Cabeswater would just lead us there.”

“So what if you asked it to?” Gansey was looking at him imploringly. 

Ronan shifted. He was the best at Latin out of the group, and had had some mild success in communicating with the trees already. He would have to be sure though. The trees would know if Ronan wasn’t completely dedicated to the goal of finding Glendower. For Ronan, the dead king meant little other than it was something important to Gansey. 

“What if you asked it?” Ronan countered.

Gansey’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Why me? Cabeswater listens best to you and Adam.”   
  
He was right, but Ronan firmly believed that this was Gansey’s task. He wasn’t sure where the certainty came from, but it left him with no room for doubt. He picked his words carefully.

“We’re all on this hunt for Glendower, and we all have our reasons. But really, this hunt is yours. Glendower means  _ more  _ to you. More than a myth or a legend or a way to get a favor. Glendower is… the reason you’re here. You owe him the most.”

And while Ronan knew that was objectively true, he wasn’t sure how much of it he really believed. Gansey owed his life to Glendower, but Gansey made the world a better place, and so everyone else owed Glendower for that. 

Ronan tried to think where his life would be if he had never met Gansey. If they had never become friends, if he didn’t have someone to pick him up when he fell apart after his father’s death, if he hadn’t had anywhere to go when he got kicked out of the Barns. He didn’t like it.  

Indirectly, Ronan supposed he owed his life to Glendower as well. 

“You want him more than anyone and you idolize him. You have a way with words, Gansey. If anyone can convince an ancient, sleeping king to wake the fuck up and come out of hiding, it would be you. Not me. You could get anyone to follow you anywhere.”

“Is that why you’re still here?” Gansey asked, and Ronan could see the smile playing on his lips, expecting some smartass retort. 

Ronan surprised them both when he just answered with a simple, “Yes.”

Gansey’s head turned towards him and Ronan could feel his gaze turn serious. Ronan’s trust was Gansey’s responsibility, and he was all too aware how easy it would be to hurt him. 

“Gansey,” Ronan started and then stopped. He had a lot that he wanted to say, but he was uncertain how to say any of it. He rolled over so he was facing away from Gansey. It was easier to admit things out loud when he couldn’t watch Gansey react to them. 

“You’re a leader, Gansey, just like Glendower. People follow you. Not because you tell them to, or force them to. People  _ want  _ to follow you. You’re… magnetic. You make people see the mysteries and curiosities of the world and you make people want to dive head first into them. Gansey, you’re electrifying.”

The way Ronan said it, it sounded like a prayer to some benevolent god. He heard Gansey’s intake of breath behind him.

Ronan jumped when one of Gansey’s fingertips touched his back. 

“Ronan?” Came the question, but it sounded a lot, like  _ Is this allowed? _   
  
He was silent for a moment. “Gansey,” he finally whispered back, a cautious but certain,  _ Yes. _

Gansey’s fingers began to move, tracing circles on Ronan’s tense back. He was uncertain at first, keeping to the same pattern in the center of the fabric of Ronan’s shirt. But as he continued and Ronan offered no resistance, Gansey grew more confident, making his patterns larger and more unique. 

Almost imperceptibly, Ronan began to relax. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had shown him affection like this, and it made his insides twist in ways that he couldn’t name, but that weren’t altogether unpleasant. 

His eyes began to drift closed and Ronan leaned back slightly to Gansey’s touch. They were closed for almost a minute before he snapped them back open, pulse accelerating. 

“Gansey, stop.”

Immediately Gansey’s hand froze and he began to pull away. Ronan felt a wave of desperation and panic at the thought of losing his touch now that he had it.

“Wait you can—I just need a second,” he said, and it was only slightly more collected than a gasp. 

Gansey left his fingers hovering on Ronan’s back, immobile, without saying a word. Ronan suspected he didn’t know how to react, which was fair. Ronan didn’t know how he expected Gansey to react either.  

Ronan closed his eyes again, but this time it was to collect his thoughts, not to fall asleep. He wanted this— _ god _ he wanted this, and he wanted Gansey. And for some reason that Ronan couldn’t fathom, Gansey seemed to want the same thing.

He took a deep breath and flipped to his other side, so he was directly facing Gansey, who quickly withdrew his hand. Ronan could see how wide his eyes were despite his efforts to hide it, and he felt a pang of guilt for having worried him.

“Gansey,” he said to get his attention, which was unnecessary because Gansey was still looking at him like he was the only thing that existed. Ronan steeled himself for the admission that had been lurking under the surface for so long. He kept reminding himself that saying it out loud wouldn’t make it any less true.  

Finally, he breathed out, “Gansey. You’re my Glendower.”     

Gansey’s jaw dropped, literally. Ronan might have laughed under other circumstances at how ridiculous he looked. But this was no laughing matter.  

“Ronan—” He choked out, but there was nothing else to say. There were no words to convey the storm of emotions that Gansey was currently experiencing. 

Carefully, Ronan reached out towards Gansey and pulled him closer. Gansey went willingly, until they were tangled together on top of the sheets. Ronan stayed until Gansey fell asleep where he was tucked against Ronan’s chest. 

He hesitated for a long second, reluctant to leave, and then carefully placed a light kiss on top of Gansey’s hair before finally untangling himself. He gave one last wistful look at Gansey’s sleeping form, and then went to his own room, where he fell soundly asleep.  


	6. Chapter 6

“Gansey?”

It was another moonless night, and Monmouth was dark enough that Gansey couldn’t see his hand in front of his face.

“Are you asleep?” Ronan’s whisper drifted through the room.

“No,” he called back. Gansey had been tossing and turning in bed wishing he was asleep, and knowing that he wasn’t the only one awake was a slight relief.

The mattress groaned as Ronan flopped onto it. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” Gansey admitted, although that was probably obvious from the fact that he was currently talking to Ronan. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t think so,” Ronan answered, his voice sounding slightly surprised. “I’m exhausted and can’t sleep, but neither of those are particularly surprising.”

Gansey laughed. “Those are both things I am intimately familiar with.”

Ronan hummed in agreement. 

“Do you want to do something?” Gansey asked. Typically when Ronan sought him out at night it was to go for a drive, to settle whatever the thing was inside of him that needed an adrenaline fix. He didn’t particularly want to go anywhere, but he knew if Ronan did, he would be on his feet and in the Pig in a matter of minutes. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“No,” Ronan replied, and he sounded even more surprised by this. 

“Oh,” Gansey replied stupidly, not sure what else to say. The last time Ronan was in his bed had been amazing—more than he would have ever thought to ask for. But he didn’t know if the rules still applied now, or if Ronan still wanted whatever that had been. He wasn’t used to not knowing. 

Gansey felt that he had pushed too hard in the end last time, enough that Ronan had almost left. Gansey had almost ruined it—whatever ‘it’ was. But impossibly, Ronan had stayed, and Gansey couldn’t remember the last time he had been that deliriously happy. Possibly never. Ronan’s voice had been constantly rattling around his head since then. 

_ You’re my Glendower. _

It had been a few days, but thinking about it even now made his heart beat erratically. He thought of what Glendower was to him—a source of power, a legend, a leader, and ruler. A source of life. Ronan knew what Glendower meant to him. Ronan knew how  _ important _ Glendower was to him. And still, Ronan had compared Gansey to the ancient and legendary king, the man of myths.

_ You’re my Glendower. _

Ronan thought all of that about Gansey. Gansey forgot how to breathe sometimes thinking about it. 

It hadn’t escaped Gansey that Ronan still had yet to actually stay an entire night with him, but it was hard to be overly worried about the implications of that when Ronan was comparing him to a literal monarch that Gansey had idolized since he was a child. And him climbing back into Gansey’s bed at whichever godforsaken hour they were in now helped to reinforce that. 

On a whim, Gansey shifted the covers, inviting Ronan to climb under them. To his delight, Ronan did so with little hesitation.   
  
A comfortable silence settled over them. With Ronan close, Gansey felt more settled than he had earlier, and sleep finally felt like it might be within reach. However, Ronan’s comparison kept running through his mind, and he knew he had to ask.

“Ronan.” His voice was low, but still seemed loud in the silence of the dark space. Gansey could feel the heat coming off of Ronan next to him.

“Yeah?” 

But all of a sudden, Gansey wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask. What he really wanted was reassurance, he supposed, but he already  _ knew  _ what the answer was. Objectively. So it seemed stupid to ask. But… Gansey needed to hear it. 

And perhaps Ronan could hear his hesitation. “Gansey, what is it?”

He took a deep breath and did his best to level his voice into something steady. “Forgive me, I just—”

Ronan snorted at the formality Gansey was using to cover his nerves, and Gansey could feel the movement. “Gansey, please. Just spit it out.”

Even though it was dark and Ronan couldn’t see him, Gansey looked away. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said the other day. And I know—I know it has to be true, because you’re  _ Ronan, _ but I don’t understand.”

Ronan was silent for a moment. “And you’re Gansey.”

Gansey made a sound of frustration in the back of his throat at Ronan’s less than helpful response. 

Once again, Gansey was sure Ronan could sense his thoughts, because he continued in a much softer voice, “I meant every word I said.” 

He reached out and touched Gansey’s hand, and Gansey’s breath hitched. The warmth that filled Gansey then was the same warmth he had felt in the imitation Cabeswater, and it was the same warmth he felt when Ronan’s eyes were on him. He found that he never wanted to give it up now that he had it. 

He inhaled sharply as the realization struck him. For his entire life, or his second life, rather, finding Glendower had been the most important thing to him. It was the pivot that his existence hinged upon. But now, with his thoughts full of a boy who was the physical manifestation of anger, who was all blue eyes and wiry muscles, sharp tattoos and sharper words, Gansey didn’t think that was true anymore.  

“Ronan. Stay, please,” Gansey said, his voice rawer than he would have preferred. Something about the darkness and the shadows that loomed around them was bringing out a vulnerability that Gansey would never dare show in the light of day. 

“Gansey….”

He knew then that the answer was going to be no, and his heart sank. But he had to try. “Alright,” he nodded, even though it was dark and Ronan couldn’t see him. His voice was thick and he didn’t try to hide his disappointment this time. 

There was a long silence before Ronan shifted. Gansey expected it was him leaving, and sucked in a breath to brace himself. But before he could exhale, warm arms were wrapping around him, and Gansey let out a decidedly unkingly huff of surprise.  

He wanted to ask why, and to make Ronan explain. But he knew that was futile. Ronan admitted to things when he was ready, or not at all. Pressing him would only serve to push him away. So Gansey said nothing, but shuffled closer into Ronan’s embrace. He would take what Ronan was willing to offer, and not ask for more. 

“Gansey, tell me a story.” Ronan’s breath was warm against Gansey’s neck and it made him shiver slightly. 

“What kind of story?” This wasn’t a request Gansey was prepared for. 

Ronan huffed something that might have been a laugh. “It doesn’t matter. Just talk.”

Gansey thought for a moment. When he heard ‘story’ he immediately thought of Glendower, but Ronan knew all of those stories. He racked his brains for something Ronan wouldn’t know about him.

“Alright, but you can’t laugh.”

“Gansey. You’re seriously going to start a story with ‘You can’t laugh’?  _ Obviously _ that means it’s going to be something I want to laugh at.” He could hear Ronan’s smile in the dark, could feel it against his neck.

“Fine,” Gansey conceded, “But you can’t laugh  _ at _ me. I’m trusting you.”

Ronan’s voice was more serious this time. “I would never.”

Gansey sighed. “Alright, well, when I was a child, I had this stuffed dog. It actually looked a bit like The Dog, if we’re being honest.”

Ronan snorted. “Dude. That is the ugliest dog ever.”

“I know,” Gansey shook his head. “But his name was Montgomery Barkeley —” Ronan snorted again, but Gansey ignored him and continued, “—and I took that thing with me everywhere. And I do mean everywhere.” He paused when he felt Ronan shaking slightly next to him, clearly stifling laughter. Instead of being annoyed, Gansey found he was pleased.

“Monty was something of a permanent fixture. If I was there, he was too. My parents made me leave him at home when we went out, of course, but around the house I always had him with me. I forget the occasion now, but Dad decided that we would go out on the yacht one day. The weather was really nice.”

Gansey could practically feel the sun on his face, and the rocking of the boat underneath him. Or maybe that was just the warmth from Ronan alongside the movement of his stifled laughter. It had been a hot summer day, but out on the water, the temperature had been beyond perfect. The water in the harbor had been surprisingly still that day. He outlined all of this to Ronan. 

“Helen was too busy sunbathing on the sun deck to do anything useful, so Monty and I went exploring. The yacht wasn’t very big, but when I was… oh, I must have been six or so, it seemed like it took up the entire world. We started below deck, and I was small enough that I could crawl into nearly everything.” 

“You still are,” Ronan sniggered, and Gansey thought about punching him, instead opting to just continued on with his story.  

“I was a dashingly handsome archaeologist, Monty my trusted assistant, and we were exploring the ruins of an ancient but sophisticated civilization of bipeds who had mysteriously vanished, leaving behind complex cities and massive ruins. Our exploration then took us out onto the main deck.” Gansey tried to put a sense of dramatics into his voice. 

“We had to skirt around some of the other archaeology teams who were camped out at the ruins, enjoying a nice feast. I was invited, but Monty and I had questions to answer, so we politely declined and continued on our way.”

Ronan’s breathing was quiet, and Gansey realized with a small thrill that he was paying close attention. 

“We followed the clues and the signs up and over the cliffs neighboring the ruins, until we were looking out over the steep drop down to the ocean. It was marvelous, and easy to see why this civilization had been built here. The salty air was invigorating. But then, catastrophe struck.”

Gansey frowned. He hadn’t forgotten this bit of the story, but young Gansey had been deeply affected, and Gansey still recalled those emotions now. 

“The sides of the cliffs were slick with sea spray, and it was a tough crossing. We had almost made it all the way across, when Monty slipped and fell down into the sea. For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t properly equipped to go in after him. Instead, I ran back to the other camp we had seen, as quickly as I could without ensuring I would meet the same fate as Monty, and begged them for help.

They scoffed, telling me I could get a new assistant. That they were easily replaceable. But I didn’t want a new assistant, I wanted Monty. Eventually, a local girl took pity on me and helped me convince the senior archaeologists that we had to go back and see if he was still alive. I owed him that much.”

“You made your parents turn around a yacht to get a stuffed dog,” Ronan summarized after a moment of silence. 

Gansey huffed. “Well when you put it that way, it sounds ridiculous.”

“Did you find him?” And Gansey might have been imagining the apprehension in his voice, but he wasn’t sure. 

He nodded against Ronan. “We did. The local girl was a strong swimmer, and the day was hot. She jumped in after him and pulled him back to safety.” As an afterthought he added, “I still have that dog somewhere in my room at my parents’ house.”

Ronan was silent for a while. Gansey could feel that he hadn’t fallen asleep. Perhaps he just had nothing to say. “Gansey?” Ronan asked finally.

“Hmm?” He hummed back. Halfway through his story, he had started to feel the steady pull of sleep. 

There was a pause. “Does this make me Monty?”

That startled a genuine laugh out of Gansey. He thought for a moment.

“Monty was a better listener.”

In turn, that startled a laugh out of Ronan, and Gansey felt immensely satisfied with himself. He wondered what he would have to do to make Ronan laugh like that more often. He turned slightly to the side to press himself closer to Ronan’s chest. “I think I prefer you though,” he mumbled into the fabric of Ronan’s shirt. 

“Good. I don’t want to have to compete with a stuffed dog,” Ronan whispered lightly. “I don’t think I could stand up to that kind of competition.”

Gansey attempted a snort, but sleep weakened it. He could feel Ronan softening beside him, and before he knew it, Gansey was asleep.  


	7. Chapter 7

Gansey woke up to a weight on his back. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, but it was unfamiliar. He blinked his eyes open slowly, his face pressed against his pillow, and was pretty sure that this is what heaven would look like if it truly existed.

Ronan was fast asleep next to him, with his arm slung over Gansey.

He couldn’t stop the warm glow that fluttered through him, nor could he stop the grin that spread across his face at this discovery. The sun was shining softly through the dirty windows of Monmouth, and for the first time Gansey could remember, he let his eyes flutter closed as he drifted back into sleep.

When he woke next, Gansey fully expected to be alone, but Ronan was still in his bed, and was still asleep. Gansey had never been much of one for cliches, but the sight of Ronan literally took his breath away. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d seen him this relaxed, and it made his heart ache for the Ronan before the world had flipped upside down. That version of Ronan wasn’t better than the current version of Ronan, but it pained Gansey to see him so _angry_ all the time. It was clear he had been hurt and was still hurting, and Gansey was frustrated that there seemed to be nothing he could do about it.

What he really wanted was to just lay in bed forever, but his body wasn’t going to let that happen. Gansey really needed to use the bathroom. He groaned internally at his poor timing and began to plan how to extricate himself without disturbing Ronan.

Carefully, Gansey began to slide his way out from under Ronan’s arm, moving as slowly as he could. He had almost made it all the way out when Ronan’s eyes snapped open, quickly and furiously, the way Ronan did most things. Gansey was momentarily dazzled by how _blue_ and _clear_ they were first thing in the morning, and grinned lazily at him, before his brain caught up and realized Ronan was no longer laying in the bed.

Instead, he was on his feet, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Gansey sat up. “What’s wrong?” His brain must have still been partly asleep, because he had no idea what Ronan could be upset about.

“Did I really sleep here all night?”

The strain and disgust in Ronan’s voice were obvious, and Gansey felt himself start to crumble as his heart plummeted. “Yes,” was all he managed to get out, a small, strangled word.

“Fuck,” Ronan muttered again as he started pacing, his body tense and coiled.

Gansey watched him for a minute, his mind curiously blank except for one thought. _Ronan is disgusted by you_ _Ronan hates you_ rattled through his brain over and over. Objectively, Gansey knew he had limbs, but he couldn’t feel them anymore.   

»»————-　　————-««

Ronan spared a glance at Gansey’s face and instantly wished he hadn’t.

It had slipped out of its carefully constructed mask, past the less controlled face he wore with friends, and straight into some look of pure and utter dejection that made Ronan’s stomach flip and his skin crawl. It was physically painful to look at, so he didn’t. Ronan started pacing, keeping his gaze directly in front of him.

He heard Gansey take a shaky breath. “Ronan, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” Ronan snapped, and Gansey looked taken aback. Hearing Gansey try and apologize when Ronan was the one that fucked everything up—that would always fuck everything up—was intolerable. And he sounded so _broken_. Ronan couldn’t live with himself if he had to hear that again. “Don’t apologize,” he softened his tone as much as he could manage as he tried again. He was pretty sure it came off as desperate, but he was beyond the point of caring.

The second his eyes had opened, Ronan had been seized with panic. He wasn’t in his bedroom. He hadn’t been able to breathe as he tried to remember what he had dreamed about. He wasn’t covered in blood, and no one was screaming, so that was probably a good sign, but _he couldn’t remember_.

“Ronan…”

Ronan had to clench his eyes shut at the plea in Gansey’s voice, his hands trembling. He turned his back on him so he wouldn’t be tempted to look.  

“What do you want, Gansey?”

“I don’t understand what’s going on.” It was clear he was trying to get himself composed, and his voice sounded almost normal, with only the slightest hint of tightness. “If I did something wrong, then I’m—”

“Not everything is about you, Gansey!” Ronan interrupted him. He knew he would break if he heard Gansey finish that thought.

“Then tell me what this is about, Ronan.” Gansey could never quite manage icy, but his tone was definitely frosty. “Because from where I’m sitting, it sure as hell seems like this is about me.”

Ronan clenched his fists. “And pray, do tell how you arrived at that conclusion.” He didn’t know how else to ask Gansey to list his failures.

The room was silent for a long while before Gansey spoke again.

“Whatever this is, whatever we are, it’s been happening for a while now. I thought…” He trailed off, but continued after a breath. “I like you, and I thought that you liked me too. Maybe that was an erroneous conclusion to reach, but there it is. Every time you stayed the night with me, I actually slept the entire night. I can’t remember the last time that happened otherwise, but every morning, you were gone.”

Gansey’s voice broke on the word gone, and Ronan’s heart with it. But he wasn’t done yet.

“There are two reasons I could come up with for that. One, you’re just fucking with me. In which case, I’d like to ask you to stop. Please. Two…” Gansey trailed off again. His voice dropped to an almost whisper as he continued, “Two, you’re some combination of embarrassed or disgusted by me.”

Ronan thought his heart had broken before, but now it shattered into unrecognizable pieces. There was something so cosmically _wrong_ about Gansey doubting himself, and doubting Ronan. Although Ronan knew that was his fault, it still stung. Yet he still didn’t turn around. “Gansey…”

“And whichever it is, it’s fine. You’re still my best friend, Ronan. But I’d like to know which, and what you want me to do about it.”

“Did you ever think there could be a third option?”

Gansey exploded suddenly. “I don't know Ronan! I don’t know what I’m doing or what we’re doing or what’s going on! I just know I woke up happy for the first time in at least a year, and it only managed to last for a few seconds but those were some of the best few seconds I can remember! I don’t know what to think!”

Ronan finally turned around, and regretted the motion as soon as it was completed. Gansey looked positively undone. His chest was heaving slightly after his outburst, his hair was a mess, and his eyes were wild. But Ronan no longer had a heart to break.

“It’s not about you,” Ronan hissed.

Ronan watched as Gansey’s mask slid into place and no—fuck—that was the opposite of what he wanted. This was Gansey’s battle face, the face he wore when dealing with vapid rich women and crooked politicians who couldn’t remember his name but remembered the stupid comment he had made at the last event his parents had dragged him to. This was the face of a Gansey who was retreating from the world to protect himself. No, this was wrong. Gansey couldn’t look at him like that; Ronan wasn’t like those people. Ronan was trying to keep Gansey safe.

“Then what is the problem?” He asked, all traces of emotion wiped from his voice. He asked it like he would ask about the weather or the score of last night’s game.

That sparked anger inside of Ronan, or maybe it was just desperation posing as anger. “Do you want to know what the problem is Gansey? Do you really want to know?”

Gansey regarded him carefully. “That is what I asked, is it not?”

“The problem is you’re so fucking fragile! Gansey, do you not realize how fucking _mortal_ you are?”

It was clear that Gansey was having a hard time keeping his face neutral, but his voice was even. “I literally wake up every day of my life thinking about that. Noah is a constant reminder of that. Every night before I fall asleep, that’s all I can think about. Every day I walk around outside, I face the possibility of death.”

“Then what happens if I fall asleep near you and bring back a nightmare? What happens then, Gansey, if I bring back another nightmare demon? What happens if I bring back a swarm of hornets?” Ronan’s voice was loud, too loud, and hysterical, too hysterical. “Gansey, what happens if I bring something back and it ki—” He broke off with what was probably a sob. “What would I do without you?”

»»————-　　————-««

Gansey sat, stunned. Out of all the reasons he had come up with for why Ronan refused to stay the night with him, this hadn’t even made the list. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. And Gansey hadn’t a single doubt that Ronan was telling the truth.

“Do you remember the first time we found a hornet in the Barns?” Ronan’s voice was low, raw.

Gansey remembered. It was years ago, but he remembered. He remembered how he and Ronan had been out in one of the fields, among the cows, too far away to see the house anymore. He remembered how he had stepped on the hornet where it had been hidden in the tall grass, and how he felt it pierce his skin. He remembered the overwhelming fear, and the feeling of dizziness. He remembered calling out for Ronan, and remembered the sheer terror on Ronan’s face. He remembered the Epipen that Ronan had magically produced. He didn’t remember Ronan carrying him back to the house, but he did remember waking up in the hospital.

He nodded.

“Ever since then. Since that day, I dream of hornets. Most of the nightmares are trying to kill me, playing off of what I’m most afraid of, with varying degrees of success. But sometimes, what I fear most isn’t dying. Sometimes it’s losing you.”

Ronan looked defeated. He was curled in on himself, looking smaller than Gansey thought he had any right to be. Ronan was bold and brash and loud, not whatever was in front of Gansey right now.

Slowly, he stood up and walked over to where Ronan was standing in the middle of the room.

“Ronan,” he breathed, and it sounded like a prayer.

Ronan shifted, but didn’t look up. Slowly, Gansey wrapped his arms around him into a hug. Ronan tensed for a moment, but then relaxed into it, hugging Gansey back furiously, as if he was the lifeline that Ronan was attached to.

They stayed there for a long time, neither quite willing to move away, until some unspoken agreement was reached and they both pulled back slowly.

Ronan was avoiding Gansey’s eyes, so the shorter boy reached up and grabbed his chin, lightly, giving Ronan the option to resist. But he didn’t, and let Gansey tilt his face back towards him.

“Ronan.” Gansey breathed again, and this time it was question, a request.

Neither was sure who started it, but both were sure that it didn’t matter when suddenly Gansey’s lips were on Ronan’s and Ronan’s fingers were in Gansey’s hair and they were closer than Gansey had ever thought two people could be.

All Gansey knew was that this was right—more right than anything he had ever done. With Ronan pressed up against him, Gansey thought that, just maybe, this was why Glendower had chosen to bring him back.

Ronan pulled back, his blue eyes full of emotions that Gansey wasn’t sure he could name. And for a wild second, Gansey was afraid that if Ronan pulled away now, he would be gone for good.

“Don’t leave me.”

And impossibly, Ronan smiled. “I already promised you that I wouldn’t. I don’t break my promises.”

And Gansey gave him a dazzling smile in return. Not the one that he wore to impress, or to please—those grins were as fake as Ronan’s dreamed car keys. No, this smile was purely _Gansey_ in a way that Ronan couldn’t quantify, but that he wanted to spend the rest of his life looking at.

“Ronan,” Gansey whispered, and it sounded a lot like I love you.  
  
“Gansey,” Ronan breathed after a moment. I love you too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here it is, the last chapter! Thank you to everyone who has read, kudos, or commented on this fic, it means more to me than you will probably ever know. If you have any overall thoughts, or things you want to see in the future, please let me know! I can be found @glendwr on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for this fandom and wow I am so emo for these boys. Let me know what you think? I'm not sure how many chapters this story is going to have but there is definitely still more to come!


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